


Wings

by Bayyvon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Winged!Bucky, angel!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 09:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14998214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayyvon/pseuds/Bayyvon
Summary: She wants to see his wings.





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky breathes a heavy sigh of relief as he climbs the stairs. He was finally home. He rids himself of his heavy tac gear just inside the door of his apartment, stretching his arms above his head and readying himself for a shower when soft arms circle around his middle.

 

“Buck,” Y/N nuzzles between his shoulderblades, curling the fabric of his undershirt between her fingers.

 

 

 

“Hey, sweetpea.” He rubs his hands over her arms, tucking their fingers together. “Didn’t think ya’d be here.”

 

“Missed you,” She says, the words curling in her mouth like a ribbon to loop tightly around Bucky’s heart.

 

“I missed you too…” Bucky lets them both settle into one another’s presence for a moment more, before he says “Lemme shower, sugar. I’m sure I don’t smell too great.”

 

“Don’t care.” Her arms pull tighter around him, slotting herself firmly against his back.

 

“C’mon now,” He works forward a few steps, and she follows like his shadow. “We got all the time in the world for cuddlin’, _mon chou._ ”

 

“ _‘m_ not a cabbage…” Y/N grumbles, tightening her grip on his hands.

 

“I _really_ wish Steve hadn’t told ya that,” Bucky leans his head back to peer at her and she nearly breaks his heart. She looks so content to just stand here with him that it almost pains him to unwind her arms from his midsection and peel off his shirt. He makes his way towards the bathroom, only this time his shadow doesn’t follow.

 

His head swivels to look at her, to find her eyes glued to the large V shaped scars that span his back. Tears are working their way into her eyes when he speaks. “Y’comin’?”

 

Y/N sits on the lid of the toilet, and chatters idly about what she’d done while he was gone.

 

Read a book.

 

“Two books, actually. One of’em was about Steve though, so I don’t think that counts.”

 

Cleaned a little.

 

Did some more basic self defense classes at the gym a few blocks away.

 

 

She’s grown quiet outside the curtain as he scrubs the grime from his hair. Her silhouette fidgets, leg bouncing and hands working through her hair. He nearly misses it when she speaks again, so softly it’s less a whisper than a breath.

 

“Hey, James?”

 

 

His ribcage turns to vice grip around his heart. Y/N only called him James when she was nervous.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Your wings,” He can almost see her catching her lip between her teeth. “Are they… gone?”

 

His breath tangles up in his throat as he slowly mills over her words. He clears his throat and says: “No,” and lets it hang in the air for her to consider.

 

“Would you show me?”

 

It had been so long since he’d last stretched them, they almost ached at the chance to materialize. But he had to steady himself. Prepare her for what she would see when they did.

 

“They’re not what you think, Y/N. They’re not full, or beautiful… not anymore.” He flips the valve off, and the warm water stops. He gropes blindly for the towel he’d left out, and finds Y/N’s hands instead.

 

“They’re just another part of you, Buck. One I’d like to see, if you’ll let me.” Y/N hands him his towel, and watches as he slings it around his waist.

 

“Tomorrow.” Bucky says as he tugs a knot out of his hair with his fingers. “I’ll take you out to the clearing, where Sam and I train. Promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“What kind of an angel were you?” Y/N asks from where she’s buried in a mountain of covers, basking in the golden rays of a lost Saturday morning._

_Bucky peers down his nose at her, to find her tracing endless patterns across his chest. He presses a smile laced kiss to her forehead, and directs his gaze to the popcorn ceiling. “I was an avenging angel. We’re a lot more like the Valkyrie than we care to admit.”_

_It’s a warm silence that stretches between them, the kind that makes vulnerability seem more like self care and less like self destruction._

_“When I was killed, in the war, I was watching them. I could see them. Angels and Valkyrie alike soaring above the fields and taking men. It was beautiful.”_

_“So what makes an angel? God? Space-bound spaghetti monsters?”_

_A chuckle sweeps through his chest, and he holds her a little tighter. “Not exactly. We’re chosen by Fate. We have to have done something exceptional in life to become an angel. Most avenging angels are soldiers. Warriors. Souls that took life before death..”_

Flowers dot the tree line like silent judgeless spectators. The mid afternoon light pools in the center of the clearing, warm and inviting. Y/N watches Bucky peel off his shirt and kick off his boots, the grass seeming to stretch, reaching desperately for his touch as he walks barefoot towards the brightest part of the meadow.

He stands in only his jeans, arms spread wide, and a soft smile of relief brushed across his mouth and he reminds her of a painting she’d studied years ago. Soft lines and wind blown hair, existing in a place between worlds. And all at once, his wings shudder into existence. They flare far past his arms, the sun catching honey laced between soil and setting them ablaze with warm layers of color. Y/N approaches slowly, hand pressed to her mouth in awe as the details come into sharp focus. She circles him, calculating every step so as not to step on any of his feathers. There are black speckles on the layer that drags the ground. He’s missing so many. His flight feathers are mangled, grown in twisted through layers of scar tissue. The figure eight shape they take when Bucky tucks them close to his back is what causes her blood to run cold.

She gives a soft cry as her heart shatters in her chest.

His wings had been bound.

How could **anyone** do something so terrible to someone so unapologetically _good_?

She presses herself to his back, face buried in the soft down of his pinfeathers. Her hands scrabble across his chest, finding solace when he places them over his hammering heart.

Bucky clears his throat as he counts her breaths to ground himself. “They—“ His voice cracks. “—found out they could make them materialize if they shoved a rod in my back… and when they couldn’t… use them… they— they broke them.“

A silence stretches between them as she digests his words. Her fingers tap a nervous tune against his skin.

When she finally speaks, it nearly breaks him. “They’re beautiful, Buck.”

Tears threaten to spill over when she nuzzles him softly, and he can feel her own tears leaving damp spots in their wake.

“Could I— could I touch them?”

He nods, teeth snagging his lower lip as he lets out a small gasp at her first touch. It’s so gentle he almost hadn’t felt it.

She brushes experimentally over them, as if trying to memorize what they felt like beneath her hands. She presses a little more firmly when Bucky lets out a ragged groan. “Y/N,”

He nearly loses it when he feels her pressing soft kisses between the blades. The way she keeps whispering praises as her fingers traipse their way beneath his coverts.

“Sweetheart, _ange_ , we gotta get you home.“ He feels like he’s been chewing on rocks, the way his voice tumbles breathlessly from his mouth.

“Did I do something wrong?” She steps back from him, hands in the air and he turns to face her. His cheeks are flush and dimpled as he smiles, eyes dark and blown wide as he takes her in his arms.

“ _Non, mon petit chou,_ ” He points to a blotch in the sky and chuckles. “I just don’t think Sam would appreciate seeing my ass.”


End file.
